


You're Dying. You're Not Dead.

by Branday



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branday/pseuds/Branday
Summary: Stephen says goodbye to Tony for the last time.
Relationships: Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	You're Dying. You're Not Dead.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CircleUp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/gifts).



> This is a (VERY SAD) gift for CircleUp.

Stephen was with Tony when he got the diagnosis.

It must have looked strange (no pun intended), to see a relatively looking normal man in a suit and someone dressed as a wizard sitting in a normie doctor’s office. If it was, the doctor didn’t even bat an eye.

“Liver cancer. A complication due to cirrhosis.” 

Tony immediately reached for Stephen’s hand. The wizard’s fingers wrapped around it. Tony squeezed. Stephen didn’t return the gesture. He didn’t even talk, because he knew Tony would do more than enough talking for the both of them.

Tony leaned forward. “Okay, doc, so what I do? What are my odds? When can I get—”

“It’s metastised, Mr. Stark,” the doctor said. “It’s not where you have it…it’s where you don’t have it.”

He fell back in his chair. “So, you’re saying there’s nothing I can do?”

The doctor sighed. “Chemotherapy. Radiation. Even then, there’s no guarantee—”

“Do it. Blast me, zap me, shoot up a bunch of icky stuff inside me.”

Stephen wasn’t surprised to hear Tony say that. After all, if there’s one thing Tony wasn’t, he wasn’t a quitter. And somehow, he knew he’d get through this.

 _They’d_ get through this.

But even with Stephen’s powers and the Eye, he couldn’t see the future.

Radiation didn’t work. Chemotherapy turned Tony into a shell of the man he once was (“And bald”, Tony would whine to his reflection in the mirror, or huddled over the toilet, while Stephen stood, or knelt, and rubbed Tony’s shoulders). Tony stubbornly continued chemotherapy until the doctor told him his body was rejecting it. The only thing Tony could do?

“Go home, Mr. Stark. Make yourself comfortable.”

Stephen’s portal took them to the Sanctum’s study from the doctor’s office, as usual. Tony stood, looking at the floor.

“Why are you still with me, Merlin?”

Stephen stopped, turned, his brow arching. “Tony?”

“I mean, look at you…” he motioned to Stephen. “And look at… _me._ I’m _dying,_ Stephen. I…I don’t want you seeing me like this.”

The wizard held out his arms. A silent gesture of comfort that Tony took when he stepped into them and felt the warmth of his touch, heard his heartbeat.

“Stark. Listen to me.”

Tony sighed. “I’m listening, jeez. Fuck, still bossy, even now.”

Stephen rolled his eyes and continued. “Yes. You’re dying.”

“…for a former doctor, you have a shitty bedside manner.”

Stephen huffed. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

“All right, all right, Merlin. Continue.”

“As I said, Tony…you’re dying. Yes. That’s true. But you’re not dead.”

Tony looked at him. His eyes were wet. “Yeah, you’re a buzzkill. You’re just lucky you got a cute ass.”

Stephen looked amused. “And you’re lucky that you know how to use that mouth in more ways than one.”

Tony chuckled, then yawned. “…I would, honey, but I’m going to have to take a raincheck.”

The wizard made a portal up to his room and helped Tony to bed. In the days to come, it’s where Tony spent most of his time. In the days leading to The Day, Tony listened to Stephen read out of his boring magical books. He made Tony sip broth and nasty ass herbal tea. Until The Day came.

Tony pushed the teacup away.

“Now now, Tony,” Stephen cajoled. “Drink it.”

Tony shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Stephen. I…” his breathing became more ragged and shallow.

Stephen sat the teacup on his bedside. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can have it later.”

Tony looked at him, fear in his eyes. “Stephen. I’m…I’m scared.”

Stephen sat on the bed, took Tony’s hand, and squeezed. “I’m here, Tony. It’s okay. It’s all right. When you let go, I’m here. And I will be here.”

Tony’s eyes closed. As the minutes tortuously ticked by, his breathing was barely noticeable.

Stephen dozed off while sitting up and woke with a start. It was evening, and something wasn’t right. He looked at Tony.

Where a light should have shone from the arc reactor in Tony’s chest, there was none.

The arc reactor in his chest had gone dark.


End file.
